


the littlest magics

by EternalSheWolf



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Magic, Random Hikago Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalSheWolf/pseuds/EternalSheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hikaru has always been aware of magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the littlest magics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/gifts).



> I've never written anything for Hikaru no Go, but one of my favorite writers, esama, set up a Random Hikago event and I wanted to try and contribute.

Hikaru has always been aware of magic.

There is _power_ in the way you do things, in the way you utter a name, the sounds low and unhurried, in the quick flashes of color in the corner of your eye, in the yarns of light you spin around yourself as you run. There is magic in the press of your thumb sliding over well-worn wood, in a fingernail scratching kanji into the sand, in the cascading chimes of a child’s laughter.

This is the reason he came to love soccer so young, he thinks, the reason he is so loud and brash and bright and fast – the world around him is a never-ending delight of colors and light and music and Hikaru cavorts in it, laughing, leaping without looking, always one step ahead and one step sideways from the other people who only live in shades of gray and muted brown, and he cannot help but feel pity for them.

 

He dresses in bright colors, grinning at the sparks of magic that leap from his yellow shirt and green shorts, drawing the tiny little slips around him to bask in. A small dusting of starlight erupts in the wake of his hand trailing down the banister and, as always, he jumps the last two steps, and laughs at the myriad of stars that suddenly spiral up and fizzle into the air. This is the key to his magic – listen, and repeat. Always jump the last two steps, always lace your shoes first right then left, circle the park twice if you’re coming from the east but once if you’re coming from the west, wear the red shirt on the days you want a little extra luck, knock twice on every door, don’t step on the cracks on the bridge three streets from home.

Hikaru runs and juggles the ball, adds an extra pinch of salt to his lunch to make his mother smile, sketches a quick kanji with the tip of a finger on Akari’s umbrella before he hands it over to make her day a little brighter.

 

Hikaru loves his grandfather’s shed, because there are so many mysteries waiting to be unraveled, so many marvelous possibilities shimmering to be discovered. The goban is a galaxy in the making, thousands of thousands of stars waiting to be ushered into being, lighting up the faded wood with a soft glow, and below that…

Below that…

 

Sai is perhaps the most magical thing Hikaru has ever seen. There is _grace_ in the elegant lines of his clothing, there is _pride_ in his tall swaying hat, there is _humbleness_ in his long flowing hair, there is _power_ in the snap of his fan, there is _majesty_ in his tranquil seiza.

“…Well.” he says after a while. “I think we’re going to get along really well.”

Sai smiles, a bit confused, but endearingly eager to please, and Hikaru can feel the magic gather around them.

 

 _Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me_ , he chants inwardly, and he rubs the beads on his bracelet, black and white like go stones, fingers sliding over the smooth surface. _I’m not here. I’m small. I’m not noticeable_. He fades quietly into the background and makes his careful way out, giving a confused Akira and Ogata a wide berth.

Once they are outside, Sai gives him a long and considering look.

“My, my, Hikaru-kun” he hums. “You are even more special than I first thought.”

 

Sai begins to teach him go and Hikaru weaves back and forth across the goban’s miniature universe the way he weaves threads of light together, over and under, left and right and around and around and around, spinning in a dizzying spiral of exhilaration until all that is left is peals of delighted laughter.

 

Touya Akira is _fire_ , and Hikaru’s fingers hesitate, and instead of the soothing _calm_ he intended to press into the hand gripping his upper arm tightly and towing him down the street, they form the sign for _challenge_.

 

Hikaru loops his fingers around the two pieces of string, knotting them together expertly, a bow of carefully nurtured _hope_ and _resolve_ along with quiet _openness_. _Friends_ , he wishes, slipping the string back into his pockets, and walks into the insei class.

 

Sai is a watercolor painting, faded white and blue, touches of purple across his figure, yet he _shines_ with such intensity that the dazzling light gleams with all the hues of the rainbow. He and Hikaru are a splash of color in the sepia-toned Go world, a vibrant wave that rocks the foundation of the quiet, contemplative community.

 

Hikaru’s fingers are always stained with ink, his pockets filled with odds and ends – colorful ribbons, round, polished stones, jagged pieces of sea-smooth glass. Half-finished string bracelets jangle on his wrists, beads slipping up and down as his hands, always in motion, trace mysterious and improbable motions through the air. The other insei look at him with confusion, unsure what to do with this boy with his bright attire and dyed bangs and strange old-fashioned charms dangling from the zipper of his backpack. He laughs and throws his head back, shaking his hair like a mane, dancing his way across the goban. The stones glow under his fingers.

 

They trail little comets of power with them everywhere they go, but never as strongly as they do across a goban. Sai spreads his sleeves and the universe sighs, and Hikaru picks up a stone and the rooms lights up. They volley back in forth with blinding musicality, a symphony in perfect harmony.

Hikary brushes his hands everywhere, on the wooden doorframe, sketches _luck_ and thinks _progress_ , wishes for _many meetings_ and calls for _battle_. Yet the goban is the one universe where he never applies his magic, gracefully bowing in favor of a deeper and far more mysterious connection.

 

 _Blue for peace and red for passion_ , he thinks as he twists the strands together. Skip a stitch, blend in an invisible thread of _strength_ , double back and loop it around the top for _new beginnings_ and _rebirth_. Surely Touya Kouyo will not notice this among his many gifts.

 

Invisible light has begun to wear away Sai’s features.

“Hikaru, I think I’m fading,” he says even as the shadows threaten to swallow him, his voice already a little fainter than it was before.

Hikaru bares his teeth and weaves furiously, deftly spinning together threads of gossamer light, casting tethers to anchor a slowly sinking ship, securing him with lines of _love_ and _need_ and _stay_ , desperately fighting a losing battle as Sai slips away into dark silence.

 

This is, perhaps, the strongest of Hikaru’s little magics – free from the tiny pieces that support it, a pair of reaching hands and a will fierce enough to tame a galaxy and shape it into being.

 

Hikaru walks in the light, and Sai walks beside him, an invisible shadow, their hands intertwined for none to see, a bridge spanning two worlds, a tether binding what should never be separate – twin echoes of what magic has wrought, blazing sparks of the smallest magic smoldering in their footsteps.

**Author's Note:**

> The basic premise was "after Sai disappears, Hikaru becomes a lot more open to believing in myths and the supernatural". It quickly evolved to "Hikaru was always magic". Because I am a sucker for tiny, insidious forms of magic, that is what he got, and because I secretly wish for happy ending, he used it to stop Sai from fading.


End file.
